


Staying Gold

by hanahakidisease (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Friends, Class Differences, DFAB reader, Enemies to Friends, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gender-neutral Reader, Multi, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, dad!gabriel reyes, dad!soldier 76, outsiders au (ish)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hanahakidisease
Summary: A (vaguely) Outsiders based AU where you and your childhood friend Jesse McCree face the challenges of growing up, family expectations, finding love, finding home, and finding yourself.  Add in the rich new kids on the block, and it's a whole mess of trouble.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's good this is my first big fic projects and i hope you enjoy it! hmu on tumblr @hanahakiis

_You’re dreaming, you can tell by the way the colors and shapes form in the sky.  Reds, the occasional pink and orange, followed by a bright vibrant blue that nearly overwhelms you.  You’re flying, now.  The colors melt and surge at your fingertips, and you travel higher, higher into the sky.  The sun is in clear view, bright, warm, golden.  You cannot stop yourself now; you’re trapped into the gravitational pull of the sun._

 

_It’s hot.  It’s heavy.  It’s hot.  It’s heavy.  The sun is on top of you, crushing you, consuming you with it’s weight--!!_

 

You jolt up out of bed-- or rather, you would have, if not for the arm and leg hooked around you that was attached to the body laying at your side.  The source of heat from your dream, you immediately realize.  The plain, white t-shirt you wore to bed is practically clinging to you in sweat, and you heave a great sigh while pulling the offending appendages off of you.

 

“Jesse, did’ja have a fight with your old man again?”  You ask, turning on your side to face your bed partner as he slept.  He wasn’t at the house before you went to bed last night, so he must have gotten into some trouble in the wee hours of the morning and escaped into the window of your room.   The sun filtering through the open window shines down onto his tousled, brown hair and tanned skin of his face.  His beard is growing out, somewhat.  It’s just a chin badger for now, and you have to resist the urge to yank on it just a bit as the burling young man sits up in your bed.

 

Jesse’s eyes scrunched together, dark eyebrows furrowing together in a yawn.  He’s still fully dressed from the night before-- Dark, fitted leather jacket with various decals emblazoned onto it, a white shirt and tight blue jeans.  You’re thankful he at least had the foresight to take off his boots before falling onto the bed with you in it; you never wanted to be woken up with a steel-toed boot in your side again.   He’s squinting in the morning light, and the groan he lets out lets you know just how he’s feeling right now.  “What time’s it?” He asks you groggily, opting to ignore your question for one of his own.  You roll your eyes at him, not that he could see it, before you turn to look at your bedside clock.

 

“Little after 9:30.  Seriously, though.  Did you an’ Reyes have a fight last night?”  You press, cracking your neck as you do so.  You’re about to get out of bed to get ready, but it seems like Jesse has another plan as he drags you back down into bed just as soon as you try to stand up.

 

“Ain’t even noon yet, what’s the rush for?”  He mumbles, arms locked around your waist.  “Relax for a little bit, Bambi.  It’s _Saturday_ for chrisssake.”  Again, he’s ignoring your question, and you decide to poke him on the forehead and repeat yourself.  His face scrunches up, once again, at your not-so-gentle display of affection, but answers this time.  “Told ya last night already.  I was out with th’guys and it got too late and I was tired, so I decided to crash here with you.  Remember?  Ya yelled at me to take off my boots before collapsin’ back into bed.”  He breaks off the last sentence with a yawn.  “Anyways, it don’t matter.  Old Man Morrison probably called and let him know soon as I stumbled in.”  It sounded like something you would say, but you should know better than to take his words at face value when Jesse had a way of glossing over home events.  However, you had also gone to bed quite late and lacked the energy to do so.  So, instead, you opted for flopping back down with him, earning a cheer from him.

 

“Y’smell like whiskey, Jess.”  You note, raising an eyebrow in his direction as he raises his eyebrows sheepishly, a mischievous spark clear in his dark brown eyes.

 

“I told ya already, pumpkin.  I was _‘tired.’_ ”  You had since closed your eyes, but you were sure you heard a wink in there.  “There ain’t no harm in having a little fun from time to time.  You should try it sometime.”  This time, it’s your turn to snort.  Really?  You, get drunk and come home to actual drill sergeant Jack Morrison?  Fat chance.

 

“If I get drunk, then whose house are we runnin’ to when both Reyes and Morrison catch wind of it?  You got any other friends you can do this shit to?”  You ask him sarcastically.

 

“I got plenty of friends, excuse you.  I just happen to like you the most.  Lord knows why, though, the way you **treat** me.”  Jesse’s voice is low and rumbling as he inches a bit closer, laying his head on your shoulder.  It’s a comforting sound, one that you’ve listened grow from a boyish timbre to the husky baritone it is now.  You can feel him smiling, despite his words, and you laugh yourself.

 

“I am so fucking flattered.  I think I’m gonna cry, right here.” You reply mockingly, before moving one of your hands to pat his head in a clunky motion.  It’s gotten a bit harder to do now that he’s so much bigger than you; he’s practically taken over the entire bed...which was probably why you were nearly smothered this morning.  Jesse merely hums in response, sighing against your shirt, and you know it’s only a matter of time before he goes back to sleep.  Most likely an after effect of his ‘tiredness’ from last night, but you envy how easy it is for him to go back to sleep.  You turn your head to the side once again to check the clock.  Surely, you could maybe get an hour or so more of sleep before Jack comes in to wake you up?  You nestle in a bit closer to Jesse, who was now snoring audibly, and close your eyes for some more well-deserved shut eye.

 

At least, that was the plan, until ten minutes later when your door is loudly opened and the tall, intimidating form of Gabriel Reyes is greeting you at the foot of your bed.  He looks all business, but you can see the influence his style has on Jesse: dark turtleneck and jeans, and a gleaming silver belt buckle.  “Get up, Jesse.  We’re going home.”  While you had jolted up and at attention as soon as you had heard the door open, Jesse stayed where he was, eyes closed and form unmoving.  Most likely a form of defiance, you could tell when Jesse was sleeping or not, especially since he had been snoring like a log just before he had entered the room.  A part of you wants to object about him just entering your room like he owned the place, but Gabriel Reyes didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear anything like that at the moment.   _Especially_ when you were basically harboring his runaway son.  Turning his sharp glare away from Jesse, he looks at you and his normally harsh features soften a bit.   “...Sorry to wake you up, Bambi, but you need to learn how to tell him ‘no’ if he’s ever going to learn.”

 

While you know he’s right, you still somewhat resent the tone.  It wasn’t your responsibility to curb Jesse of his habits, but once again, you hold your tongue and nod.  Jesse still hasn’t moved, but there’s a harsh line on his mouth that clearly says he’s been awake this whole time.  You won’t call him out on this, your friendship is far too strong for that, so instead you make like you’re waking him up, clapping him on the cheek.

 

“C’mon, Jesse, up and at ‘em.  Your dad’s here.”  You tell him, and he grunts in response.  This ends up irritating you more than it usually would since Reyes is here, in front of you, and waiting for him.  Your gut tells you that they probably had another argument, which is why Reyes is here collecting Jesse himself rather than waiting for him to come back on his own.  However, you don’t appreciate being put in the middle of a quarreling father and son.  “I said, your dad’s here, get the hell up.”  You half yell it in his ear, and he groans angrily in response.

 

“I heard ya the first god damn time.”

 

“ _Then get up the first god damn time._ ”  You tell him intently, pushing him up as he mutters curses under his breath.  He doesn’t look at Reyes at all as he slides off the bed and pulls on his boots, each movement with a deliberate slowness that his father doesn’t appreciate at all.   Afterwards, he grabs his hat-- he must have discarded it somewhere during the night, and marches out the door with Reyes’ eyes on him.  He pauses for a moment in the doorframe.

 

“I’ll see ya later, Bambi.  Thanks for havin’ me.”  He tips his hat towards you, and you wave slightly as he disappears into the hallway.

 

“See ya, Jesse.  Bye, Mr. Reyes.”  You bow your head slightly to the older man in the room, who nods before leaving, closing the door on his way out.  After you hear a satisfying click, you let your body fall back onto your bed and sigh loudly.   _Awkward_.  That was the best way to describe what had just happened.  Growing up, you had seen the two have their share of butting heads, especially when Jesse had started going through puberty, but lately they seemed to be fighting more and more.  This was the third time in the past two weeks Jesse had slept over, and he dodged every question you’d asked about it.  Stressful, stressful, but you would worry about it later.  The encounter had exhausted you, and it was time for you to finally get the sleep you now desperately needed.  You pull the blankets up to your chin, turn on your side, and close your eyes.

 

A gentle series of knocks on your door prevents that, and you fight the urge to groan.  “Hey, it’s me.  Can I come in?”  An older voice calls from the other side of the wooden door.  You were about to say ‘no’, but the door creaks open anyways.  “...Tough morning, huh?”  Jack Morrison grunts awkwardly, running a rough hand through the silver hair on the top of his head.  It’s a Saturday, but he’s still in his work pants, stained in paint and an old white shirt with the frayed sleeves rolled up.  You sit up and motion for him to come in; he might as well, since the universe seems to have ordained that you would not be sleeping in any more today.  He seats himself on the far corner of the bed, body angled towards the door, before he continues to speak.  “McCree tell you anything about what’s been happening lately?”

You want to groan.  Really.  He’s in here to snoop, instead of apologizing about letting his old army buddy just march into your room.

 

“Nope.”  A straight-forward answer.

 

 Jack raises a dark eyebrow at your frankness.  “Would you tell me if he did?”  He ventures.

 

“Nope…  Sorry.”  You answer honestly, shrugging and looking at the pattern of your bedspread.  You wound your fingers into the material, wondering if he would be upset, but instead, he just laughs-- a short, barking sound you've come to know.

 

“Figures, the way you two get on.”  He shakes his head slightly and exhales.  “...Just, try and let me know when he’s here.  It ain’t a pretty sight having to open the door while you’re having coffee and having Reyes ask if his kid’s in here and not knowing yourself.”

 

“ _Try waking up to it._ ”  You retort, deadpan, and Jack just laughs even more, hitting his knee with the flat of his palm until you start to glare.

 

“Ah, yeah.  Sorry about that.”  He scratches behind his neck as he realizes where he went wrong and earned your ire.  “Alright, alright.  I can take a hint.  Nobody in your room without your say so, alright?”  The look he gives you is one of appeasement, and despite yourself, you crack a bit of a smile.  He pats the lump your foot makes under the blankets affectionately.  “There we go.  I’m picking up a job today over at the Shimada’s-- Don’t make a face, I ain’t asking you to go with me-- so you’re in charge of dinner for tonight.  Go ahead and order a pizza if you don’t feel like cooking, we’ve got some extra money this month so I think we can swing it.”

 

 _Excellent_ , you can’t wait.  Jack stands up to leave the room and get ready for work, but he stills in the doorway as he goes to close it.  “By the way…you aren’t _seriously_ going to go back to sleep, right?  It’s past ten o’clock.”

  
_“Of fucking course not.”_  You think to yourself.


	2. Beginning Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeey two updates in one week. thank you to everyone who gave a nice comment, and i hope you continue to enjoy this! as always hmu on tumblr @hanahakiis

“I thought I told you to cut back on those.”  Jack’s sour voice clearly rings out behind you, and you wince a bit, holding the offending cigarette between two fingers, still unlit.  You turn your head from where you were sitting on the front porch and give him a lopsided grin, hoping it looks more apologetic than you feel.  He leans against the old wooden doorframe, tapping on a bicep of his crossed arm with his fingers, frowning down at you, and you know he isn’t going to let it go.  You pluck it back into the box and shove it into the pocket of your leather jacket with a long, drawn-out sigh, and he smiles.  “Thanks, maybe without the theatrics next time.”  You don’t reply as he ruffles your hair with a gloved hand, quickly moving out into the front yard.  He’s got his toolbox in one hand and a boxed lunch in the other, his worn denim jacket slung over his shoulder as he walks towards the truck.  It’s not long before he’s driving away, waving at you from the driver’s seat and yelling out for you to make sure all the doors are locked when you head back inside, to take a scarf if you were going to go out before dinner;  “And for god’s sake, don’t light one up as soon as I’m on the road!”

 

You politely decide that you didn’t hear the last one over the roar of the dusty old engine as you flick your match, lighting the cigarette between your lips.   Your gaze centers on the small street you grew up on; not much seems to have changed in the ten or so years you’ve lived there.  There’s still a big pothole on the side of the road that the Millers can’t stop complaining about since it’s right in front of their driveway, but their four year old thinks it’s the bee’s knees to have as his ‘dragon’s cave’.  The houses that line the street are close together and in states varying from “decent” to “barely livable.”  It was probably because Jack was a handyman that your house was in one of the better states on the block--  A simple white house and tanned roof, with a chain-link fence on the outside.  You didn’t have much of a lawn, any grass that was there was also accompanied by weeds and a few stray pieces of lumber and scrap metal, but there was also a small patch of flowers that were lovingly cared for.  Red flowers, just barely peeking out in bloom.  You smile a bit at them before looking up at the sky.  Blue, with a few clouds here and there and the wisps of smoke that drifted from your parted lips.  It was still pretty early in the day, but Jesse was probably still getting the talking-to from Reyes that he’d avoided last night, so you would have to find another way to spend the day until he was free.

 

You decide to get a bit of laundry done, since the weather seemed like it’d be good enough to dry some clothes. Rolling up the sleeves of the oversized, worn jacket you wore, you walked back into the house and closed the door with a resounding click.  At the very least, you could get some housework done and maybe squeeze in a nap before Jack came back.

 

Doing the laundry of just two people shouldn’t have been too labor-intensive.  You wore similar clothes, for the most part, meaning less of a workload.  The biggest pain was usually Jack’s clothes, stained with paint, dirty, and occasionally, blood, so you had to scrub with the bleach and detergent a little more earnestly than usually.  You were about halfway through hanging the wet clothes to dry when you could hear the tell-tale steps of Jesse McCree running, and jumping, over your chain link fence and into your yard.  “Now, what’d I say earlier about relaxing?”  He asks you, as if your conversation had never been cut off, peeking from behind one of the sheets you’d just hung up.  “Let’s go out an’ get a milkshake or something.  I’m dying from bein’ cooped up all day.”

 

You pull the sheet back down with a chuckle.  “Help me finish hanging this shit up and we can go, yeah?”  He groans—loudly, you might add, at your request, but starts picking up clothes from the basket to pin on the nearby clothes line, whistling an off-key tune you don’t recognize.  You pause in your work to watch him.  Jesse works at a practiced pace, and he seems to be in a better mood than earlier, you note, as the smile reaches his eyes as he helps you with your laundry.  He may have noticed your staring, or rather lack of moving hands, as he takes one of your shirts in his hands with a shit-eating grin.

 

“This’s cute.  You think they make it in grown sizes?” He jeers, putting it in front of himself to compare, and you roll your eyes at him as you try and yank it back.  He jerks it just out of your reach, clearly enjoying himself.  “I’m serious.  No need for such _hostility_ , Bambi.”

 

“Can we just finish this up without you bustin’ my balls, McCree?”  You ask, trying to grab it once again, only for him to dangle it above his head.  You’re fighting a smile, and he knows it, goading you a bit more by flapping your shirt like a matador.

 

“You were the one standing there slack-jawed and not workin’.”  He replies back, eyes shining mockingly.  You lunge, intent on winning this time, but Jesse grabs you with his free arm and squeezes you into his chest, preventing your movement.  He continues to laugh, even as you gently beat his sides to let you go.  He smells like the cigars he smokes, and the warm, cinnamon aftershave he buys from the corner store that mingles with the scent of aged leather.  You know what’s coming next, but for a second, you dare to hope against it.

 

That hope comes crashing down, as does the wet shirt from his hand, when he starts wiggling his fingers on your sides and neck.  Hysterical laughter peals out as you try and squirm out of his grip-- and damn his grip, he’s mastered how to hold you just right so that you can’t get out easily.  “God-- damn it, Jesse McCree, cut it out!!”  You yell in between bits of laughter, still trying to beat his sides ineffectively.  He’s not laughing nearly as much as you are, and his laughter is tinged with a rude smugness to it.  He’s won, and he knows it, and he’s not going to stop until you’ve got weak knees and tears in your eyes.  “I me-e-ean it!!”  The feeling is driving you nuts, and before you can fall down, Jesse’s already one step ahead of you.  He flops onto his back, taking you with him to roll in the grass.  Once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth time he’s hovering over you as you lie on your back, attempting to regulate your breath.

 

Jesse regards you with a grin, and you punch him in the shoulder.  He winces at the blow, but leans in.  Closer...closer....  You can count the eyelashes and tiny scars from shaving as he presses his forehead against yours.  For a moment, you forget to breathe despite yourself, but his voice brings you out of your stupor.  “...Ya ain’t gotta worry about me, Bambi.  I’m fine, Reyes is more than fine, so don’t fret your pretty little head none.  Got it?”  His face still holds his signature smile, boyish and cheerful, but there's a soft sincerity to the words behind it.

  
You had almost forgotten that he knew you just as well as you knew him.  Even from just a glance, he instantly knew what you were thinking.  You stare at him for a moment, eyes unwavering from the other’s, before you close your eyes.  It was worthless to try and argue with him when he was looking at you like that.  “Fine, fine.  Just get offa me, ya big oaf.”  You tell him, punching his shoulder again, gently this time.  He grins and relents, standing back up and pulling you back to your feet.

 

“That’s what I like to hear.  Now, about those milkshakes--”  He’s halfway out of the yard before your voice catches up with him.

  
“ _We still haven’t finished the laundry, Jesse, god damn it._ ”

* * *

 

A load and a half later, sans the shirt that Jesse dropped in the dirt, the two of you were on your way to the diner.  Hands shoved into your pockets, you and Jesse stroll easily along.  You’re about to light another cigarette when Jesse snaps it out of your hands.  “I saw your old man’s truck earlier, by the way.  He’s workin’ at the Shimada’s today, right?”  You groan at the name, his thumb pointed towards a solitary, two-story house on a hill in the distance.  The house is immaculate, pure white paint and green grass contained by a picket fence.   Even compared to the other houses in the area surrounding it, it’s in a league of its own.  You resist the temptation to give the estate the finger, instead opting to nod in response to his question.  Your dislike of the Shimadas could be addressed at a later date, so as to not sour your afternoon treat.

 

“Yeah.  Don’t know what he’s doin’, but it’s always something with a house that big.”  You shrug disdainfully.  “I’m just glad he didn’t ask me t’come along this time.”

 

Jesse whistles.  “Of course, especially with how _lovely_ you and Hanzo get on.”  You groan again, louder.  Of course, this was the reason he brought it up.

 

“Don’t fucking start, Jesse.”  A warning tone is clear in your voice, and just as clearly ignored.

 

“Regular lovebirds, you two~”

 

“God, **why** are you like this?  And gimme back my cigarette, you hypocrite.”

 

The two of you trade similar remarks back and forth until it eventually deteriorates into a repetition of ‘ _dumb cowboy_ ’ and ‘ _dumb bambi_ ’ as you sit side-by side at the bar.  You order your milkshakes and lean onto the gleaming silver counter, chin resting on your arms while Jesse flirts with the cashier on the other side, no doubt to try and get a free order of fries.  He's leaning into the bar, all his weight resting on one leg.  His eyes are locked onto the person in front of him, head tilted slightly and looking up at them through his lashes.  _Yep, a clear dose of Jesse's good ol' fashion cowboy charm._

 

He may have gotten them too, if you hadn’t chosen the exact moment he was getting close to nudge his calf with your foot.  He loses his balance and almost slides off of the counter, nearly knocking into the other as he did so.  You chuckle mischievously under your breath while Jesse glares at your profile, sitting down with a slump next to you.  Serves him right, you reassure yourself.

 

“Really, gotta do a man like that and make sure both of us ain’t gonna get any?”  He asks you, raising a dark eyebrow at your blatant betrayal.

 

“That’s the plan.”  You retort with a smug smile, firing a wink and a finger gun at him.  Jesse gives you another, quite different, hand gesture in response.

 

“Hmph.  I changed my mind, I don’t like you at all and I ain’t treating you to shit after this.”  He threatens you mildly, tipping his hat over his face as his normal smile forms into that of a pout.

 

“I love you with all my heart and soul, Jesse McCree.”  You coo at him, tone sickeningly sweet, and your milkshake is slid towards you despite the snort you hear.  No matter what happened, nobody could say that Jesse wasn’t a man of his word.  Especially when it came to you.  Was there ever a time when he had gone back on a promise to you?  You couldn’t recall.  A ten year long friendship, give or take.  Even in a town as small as yours, it was nothing to turn up your nose at.

You shared your ups and downs, all starting from the day Jack Morrison brought you to that small, white house with a chain-link fence and a tanned boy with a bright red bandanna waiting for you to arrive. 

That was your "beginning."


	3. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to when you first meet Jesse, and what lead you to live with Jack.

The inside of the pickup truck was immaculate, despite the busted-up paint job on the outside.  To your side, you had a small bag of belongings:  a beloved stuffed animal, a few toy cars, and your mismatched hand me down clothes.  The drive from the social worker’s office to his home couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it was the longest moment of your short life.  You didn’t dare look up at the man beside you, who attempted to lighten the mood as he focused on the road.  “Listen,” He called your name softly, clearing his throat.  “I know this is a big change but...you don’t have to be scared.  You don’t gotta call me ‘Mr. Morrison’ or anything if you don’t want to.  Just ‘Jack’ is fine.  It’s not forever, but I want you to feel at home.”  Your focus instead was on the dirt beneath your fingernails, not truly taking in anything he said, like static on a radio.

 

No matter what, this was scary.  It was a new house, with an unfamiliar man who said that he would be taking care of you from now on, and you didn’t know what to do.  Your mother had said that it was ‘for the best’ and told you to be good.  She’d left a dark, red lipstick stain on your cheek that you’d yet to completely wipe off.  She had said a lot of things, while sobbing over your shoulder.  She promised that she would visit you, and that you would come home soon.  That when everything was sorted out, you would be a family again, but until then, you would have to be good for the blue-eyed man who came to retrieve you.  All of these things flew clear over your head, however.  All you knew was that you didn’t truly know this man outside of a few visits, that you were going home with him, and that you were absolutely terrified.

 

He seemed to have noticed that you didn’t intend to answer him, as he quietly stopped talking, though not without a sigh.  A gloved hand reached over towards you, maybe to reassure you that things would be alright, but you immediately shrunk against it with a small sound.  “...Sorry, sorry.  I forgot.  You don’t like to be touched, right?”  More silence.  “We’re almost there.”  He apologized softly, and the engine quietly stalled in front of the house that you would be staying at.  “You’ve got your own room and everything…  I’ll buy you some more clothes, and we can see what we can do about your hair.  Don’t know nothing about that, but I know someone who does.”  He laughed helplessly at his own ineptitude.  His hair wasn’t quite so grey, back then, and his scars were a little darker.  You nodded in response to his questions, touching your clumsily cut hair with a hand.  It had been matted when he had first met you, so they had to cut a good portion of it off.  He promised you that he would learn so that it would never happen again, but you hoped that you wouldn’t be there with him long enough for it to happen.

 

He hopped out of the car and to the other side to help you down from the car, touching you as little as possible as you nearly leaped down.  Jack muttered to himself  that he would add on a small step for you to get in and out easier, but you barely paid any attention to that.  Instead, you were practically overtaken by a flash of brown hair, brown eyes, and a bright grin.  “I’m Jesse, what’s your name?”  You were a bit confused by his southern drawl, and even moreso by the hand that was stuck in your face, so you backed away instead without a word.  Even if he hadn’t just jumped into your line of sight, it would have been hard not to notice him with his bright red bandana looped around his neck and slightly-oversized cowboy hat hanging down as well.

 

“Jesse?  What’re you doing here?”  You heard Jack’s voice, so you quietly move behind him instead, peeking out from the side.

 

“Reyes told me to come and say hi.  Do you talk?” Jesse kept his eyes trained on you firmly, walking closer even as you move further behind Jack.  “Can ya hear me?  Hellooooo??”  His voice trailed off as Jack placed his hand gently, but firmly on his head and made him back up a few steps.

 

“Give the kid a minute, Jesse, they just got here.”  He chided him gently, removing his hand and chuckling a bit as the young boy grumbled and fixed his hair.  Jack looked back down at you and gave you a small, encouraging smile.  “This’s Jesse.  He lives a couple of houses down.  The two of you are about the same age, so I hope you can be friends...Can you say ‘hi’?”

 

You looked down at the ground, scuffing your shoe in the dirt and drawing an imperfect circle with your heel.  “....Hi.”   Your voice is soft and quiet, and you give him your name just as quietly after.

 

“Alright, alright.  Do you wanna play?  I’ve got some marbles in my pocket if ya wanna play with those.  You like hide and seek?  D--”  Once again, he came forward a little too fast, you flinched, and Jack’s rough hand comes onto Jesse’s head to back him up.  “Auuuuggghh, I got it, I got it.  Don’t mess up my hair!”  Jesse pouted and fixed his hair for the second time that day, his cheeks puffed out and round.  You thought it was kind of funny, the corners of your lips turning up from behind Jack’s pant leg.

 

“You can come over to play later on, Jesse.  We’ve still got stuff to do, right?”  He looked down at you, and you nodded.  You didn’t know what that was, exactly, but if he said that you still had things to do, then you would listen to him.  Jesse immediately frowned, but he nodded.  He made eye contact with you before waving goodbye and running down the street.  He was about halfway through before he turned around and cupped his hands around his face.

 

“I’m definitely comin’ back, so you better be ready!!”  It sounded more like a threat than a promise to play, but for some reason, it made you laugh.  In the corner of your eye, you thought you saw Jack smile as well before carrying the rest of your belongings in one hand and leading you into the house.

 

As per his promise, the next day, Jesse waited outside of your fence, calling for you to come out and play.  Eventually, it turned into a daily thing-- There weren’t many other children your age so close by in the neighborhood, so it was natural that you would attach to each other at the hip.  At first, it was hard.  You rarely wanted to leave the safety of the front yard, much to the energetic boy’s chagrin, and you rarely spoke, even to him.  You answered in either nods, head shakes, or a simple shrug of your thin shoulders, which frustrated him to no end since he never seemed to stop talking.  He delighted whenever he got you to laugh, and sometimes got a little too giggly whenever he made you mad enough to yell at him and chase him around the small front yard.  Still, the two of you had fun together.  

 

Life with Jack was nice.  He almost never raised his voice at you, and when he did, he was quick to apologize and try to explain himself.  ‘I’m not mad, just tired.’ He would say, and you would nod.  He even kept his promise of buying you new clothes, albeit second hand, fumbling around as he followed you through the store as you looked for things you liked.  You laughed as he struggled helping you button up a long jacket from the winter, large fingers unable to get the button through the hole, and he gave you a defeated half-smile in return instead of an angry glare.  You didn’t have to be scared at night, because Jack would check the closet and under the bed twice before turning off the overhead light, and he never yelled at you for crying when you missed your mother.

 

You even met Jesse’s guardian, a seemingly harsh-looking man a few days later, but you were immediately soothed by Jesse’s presence and the welcoming smile on Reyes' face as he knelt before you.  He smelled like motor oil and grease, but his hands were gentle as he measured you out for the fits on some of your new clothes.  “Can’t have you running around with stuff that doesn’t fit, huh?”  He asked, pausing every so often with the pins to make sure he didn't prick you.  He explained that he was Jesse’s foster father, and that he and Jack were friends when they were in the army, so if you ever had any trouble with Jack, you should just come and find him and he’d set him straight.  Something that Jack scoffed at, leaning on the wall even as you giggled and assured him that Jack was nice.

It gave the both of you comfort to know that you two were in the same situation.  He liked to talk about his plans for the future when you two were alone.  “Ya know, I’m hanging out with Reyes for now, but I’m gonna go back home to my mama soon ‘nuff.”  He said so matter-of-factly as he slid his cars down the carpeted floor.  “I’m goin’ back to San Antonio with her and we’re gonna live in a big ol’ ranch, just the two of us.”  He didn’t seem like he wanted you to answer, but you nodded anyways.  “When I go, you’re gonna visit me, right?  Ain’t gonna forget about me?”  He stuck out a pinky towards you, the small pink digit smudged with dirt and an old bandaid.  “Gotta promise me, okay?”  You nodded, linking fingers with him.  The two of you made many plans, ranging from spending summers at each other's homes to you moving to San Antonio with him, to all of you saving up whatever money you had to live at Disneyland.  You hadn’t known at the time that you would be leaving him first.

 

It was at the end of summer that you received the news that you would be going back with your mother, and you couldn’t have been more excited.  You made Jesse promise, twice, that he would send you letters.  He’d been very good, very strong, but he had started crying when he saw you drive off in the truck, chasing after it and waving for as far as he could.  You made Jack promise not to forget you as well, to which the older man knelt down and affectionately ruffled your hair.  “Forget you?  Not a chance.”  The two of you spent the next few days gathering your things-- He insisted you keep all of the clothes and toys he’d given you, saying they were yours to keep, to remember him by.  When he dropped you off at the social services office, you quickly hugged him with all your might.  Jack nearly fell backwards from the force of it, and quietly stroked your steadily-growing hair back.  “...If you ever need anything, you call me.  Even if it’s just to talk.  I’ll come running.”  He told you, quickly putting the house phone number in your small backpack and waving you goodbye as you ran with open arms towards your mother.  In a perfect world, that would have been the last of it.  A good memory to end your long summer away from your mother.

 

Jack got the call from you two weeks later, in the dead of night.  He practically kicked the door down to get to you-- Your mother was asleep on the couch, red make-up smeared across her lips and the man she had brought home nowhere in sight.  She barely stirred when Jack marched towards her and demanded to know where you were.  You couldn’t remember much, just sitting alone in a dark room and the receiver clutched desperately between your small hands.  

 

You were hungry.  You were cold.  You were afraid, and you hurt all over.

 

But there he was, shining in the light of the doorway.  He dropped to his knees, throwing his leather jacket around you and pressing you close to his chest as he picked you up.  “I’ve got you, honey.  I’ve got you.  You’ve got nothing to worry about.  You’re never going back here again.”   He swore this up and down as he carried you out the door.  Your mother still wasn’t completely aware, only dazedly looking at you with hurt in her eyes as you buried your face in his chest.  The door shut resoundingly, and you were greeted with the cool moonlight.  Even Reyes and Jesse were there, waiting outside.  You finally cried when Jesse ran up to you and reached out to hold your hand.  His hand was so warm; it kept you grounded.

 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry.”  He repeated, even as you both sobbed, snot running down his face.  “I’m here too.  S’alright.  I ain’t gonna leave you alone.”

 

He kept his promise and sat next to you the whole ride back to Jack’s house, hands gripped tightly in yours.  That was the first time he spent the night, too, refusing to leave your side even as Reyes tried to gently pull the two of you apart.  You wouldn't let go of the other, and the adults decided it would be best not to separate you as they spoke in hushed whispers that you couldn't understand.  The only thing you knew was that you were warm, and that Jesse was right there beside you.

 

You never saw that house again...but you had a new  _home_.

* * *

 

“What’re you starin’ at me for?”  Jesse asks you, poking your forehead with his index finger.  His hands were freezing from the milkshake, and you were lucky he hadn’t decided to stick them on your neck.  “I know I look good, but you’re makin’ me blush.”

 

“Just waxing nostalgic.”  You answer, batting his hand away with a chuckle.  Even now, the jacket was just as comfortable as the night it had been given to you, and you duck your head into it just a bit, for old time’s sake.  “I really do love you, Jesse.”

 

He chokes a bit on the last drink of his milkshake, staring at you with a raised eyebrow.  “...You feelin’ alright?  Ain’t like you to be so sappy.”  He mockingly checks your temperature, but smiles.  “...I love you too, Bambi.”  His reply is quiet, as if afraid the rest of the busy diner might hear it.  Just as soon as he says it, he heaves himself up off the stool and shoves his hands in his pockets.  “You wanna go for a walk before headin’ back?”

 

It’s not even a question, you’re already treading alongside him as he opens the door.  After all, might as well make the most of your weekend before school started back up again on Monday, and with it, your whole other share of problems.


	4. The Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Shimada Brothers and the introduction of one of the major plot points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was rlly eager to introduce hanzo and genji and get some more of the general plot rolling, so here's an unexpected update made 100% because of my lack of self control.
> 
> as always, if u like what u read or just have a question about where the story is going, maybe send me an ask over at hanahakiis @ tumblr.com

Since your town is small, the local high school accommodates both the rich folks who live in the hills as well as the lower-class citizens who live closer to the downtown area.  It’s a nice building, standing tall and clear above most other buildings in the area, aside from city hall.  The tiled floors in the main building are sparkling and most of the lockers are in good condition, save for the ones in use by the rougher crowd.  There’s a library separate from the main building, modest in size but filled with books and open to the general public as well as the students.  The crown jewel, however, was the gymnasium and football field, well-tended and with state-of-the-art equipment for the local athletes.  The high school is one of the only melting pots in the town, where you could find people of both social classes interacting-- though not usually with much friendliness or enthusiasm.  It’s still early in the morning, so you wait underneath a tree and have your morning smoke while waiting for Jesse.  In the past, you had walked to school together, but in recent months, you usually met up underneath the old oak tree in the front.  You keep your old jacket held tight around you to fight off the chill, exhaling deeply.  As you wave at a few of your classmates, a pretty girl in a long skirt and another young man in a similar leather jacket, a clean, well-maintained car drives by.  You wrinkle your nose at it, but it’s short-lived when you see who exits the car before it drives off.  “Genji!”  You call out, waving your hand as you see the slicked-up black hair appear from the car.  He’s got on a leather jacket, but the shirt he has on underneath it is a perfectly pressed white button up, and jeans in near-perfect condition.  Genji salutes you with a cocky grin, his school bag slung about his shoulder as he approaches you.  “You’re here early.  It isn’t even third period.”  You snark good-naturedly at him, and he shrugs with mock innocence.

 

“What can I say?  Sometimes the mood strikes me.”  His eyes glint and he jokingly looks over your head and shoulder.  “Where is Jesse?  I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

 

You snort.  “Real funny, Jesse usually rolls in right before the bell, unlike some people.  Wanna drag?”  You offer your cigarette.  He thinks for a bit, tempted, but then shakes his hand in polite refusal, his other hand over his heart.

 

“I shouldn’t.  My brother will have a fit if I come home smelling like smoke...Also, aren’t you supposed to be cutting down?”  He asks, cocking a knowing eyebrow in your direction.  You had almost forgot that Jack was working at the Shimada house on Saturday.

 

“God, is that old man telling that to everyone in town?”  You ask incredulously before returning the smoke to your lips.  “‘Sides, who cares what _Hanzo_ thinks?”  The emphasis on his name is full of venom, and Genji laughs.

 

“You do not have to come home to him, Bambi.  He’s worse than my father.”  Genji reminds you, as you reply with something along the lines of _‘your problem, not mine.’_  He leans over towards you and whispers in your ear conspiratorially.  “You know, he was incredibly upset the other day when you got your marks back.  100 to 99.  He was muttering to himself for a whole half hour.”

 

Your grin is absolutely wolfish upon hearing the news.  You’d known it already, but you’re still filled with smug satisfaction that you have bested the eldest Shimada. His smile is complicated as he pulls away, pushing his hands into his pockets.  “I really wish you two would get along better.  He brings it on himself, but he is still my brother.” With that, Genji pats your shoulder and bids you farewell-- Apparently, a very cute person in his grade had just shown up, and he was eager to try his luck.  You wish him a bland good luck and resume waiting for your friend, checking the old leather wristwatch on your right hand.

 

While Jesse had said you hated the Shimada family, it wasn’t quite true.  You had no problem with Genji, the sophomore and younger of the two Shimada brothers.  For most people, they usually stayed in their own social circles, but Genji did not.  Rather, he seemed to be above it-- he managed to make friends with almost everyone he met, circumstances be damned.  He was cocky, arrogant, and more than a little bit spoiled, but he had a warmth and good nature to him that was impossible to hate.  His brother, on the other hand, was the **exact** opposite.  You decide not to think about him, you’ll see him soon enough as the bell rings.

 

In the end, Jesse doesn’t arrive before the bell, so you sigh and put out your cigarette before heading to homeroom.  You know he’ll be there by second period, at least, so you make the walk to the classroom alone and slide into your seat.  The young man seated behind you in a salmon-colored polo shirt snorts at the sight of you, but you graciously ignore him as you sit down in your seat.  It’s not worth it, you tell yourself, even as irritation scratches in the back of your mind.  The classroom is small, there’s maybe twenty students in there at most of various styles of clothing and mind, but each sticks to their own set circle.  There’s still a few minutes until the teacher walks in, so you doodle a bit in your notebook as you wait, aimlessly scrawling tiny figures and flowers until you hear a disdainful throat clearing in your direction.   You turn your head and give the source of it a brilliant, sarcastic smile.

 

“You need something from me, Shimada?”  You ask him sweetly, leaning your chin on your hand in the most condescending way possible as you look up at the eldest brother, Hanzo.  He’s dressed impeccably as always: pressed button-up shirt properly tucked inside ironed khaki pants.  His long dark hair is held in a loose ponytail, draped over his shoulder, and his hawk-like eyes are staring down into your own.

 

“You and I have been called in for a conference after school.  Why, I do not know, but take the slip.” In his hand, a small piece of paper held out towards you indignantly.  You reach out for it with a roll of your eyes, but as soon as your fingers tighten around it, he pulls you forward.  The two of you are staring at each other now, nary a few inches between your faces.   Hanzo’s voice lowers, threateningly.   “...My brother came home drunk the other night.  You, and that oaf you run around with, would be advised to stay away from him from now on.  He doesn’t need influencing from your kind.”  Every word is precisely enunciated, a dark tone heavy with implications.  He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, but you couldn’t care less about that, your blood immediately boiling beneath your skin.  Your hand shoots out, grabbing Hanzo by the collar and the distance between you now is negligent— your noses practically brushing together.

 

“Don’t talk bad about Jesse, you piece of shit.”  You hiss, small fingers tightening around the starched material.  You’re unaware of how quiet the room has become, all eyes on the both of you.   Hanzo’s eyes sharpen even more, the veins in his neck pulsating.  You’re both still holding onto the slip, but you’re sure you could at least land a good hit on the smug motherfucker’s face—

 

“Hey, hey, you two are at it early.”  Jesse’s voice is inappropriately cheerful as he basically comes between you.  You barely notice his gloved hands are prying your fingers off of Hanzo’s collar, your glare still fixated on Hanzo’s face.  “The teacher’s comin’.  Let it go, sugar, it ain’t worth it.  You too, Shimada, unless you fancy a trip to the principal’s office.”   He’s right, and you know it, but you’re having a hard time backing down.  Thankfully, you don’t have to. Hanzo tears his gaze away from yours with a spiteful noise, instead focusing his hawk-like gaze and frown at Jesse.  In contrast, Jesse’s got a smile on his face, but his eyes had a hard glint to them from beneath wisps of dusty brown hair.  He and Jesse stare each other down in much the same way as you had done before.

 

“Both of you.  Stay away from my brother if you know what’s good for you.  Don’t forget what I said either.”  He motions back to the slip of paper in your hands, now crumpled in your shaking fist, and sits in his seat a few rows away from you— though not before purposely knocking shoulders against Jesse along the way.  Jesse snorts, clicking his tongue against his teeth and muttering ‘prick’ before returning his attention to you.  He still has his hands around yours securely, and asks you if he did anything to you.

 

You shake your head.  “Other than test my goddamn patience?  Nothing.”  The hands holding yours relaxes, and you smile at him reassuringly.  Even if he did, you would adamantly refuse to let Jesse fight any of your battles for you.  Especially any that had to do with Hanzo— you want that satisfaction for himself.  Jesse looks like he doesn’t believe you, but the subject is dropped as the click of heels enter the room and your teacher loudly suggests that Jesse make his way back to his seat, especially since he was in seemingly such a rush to get in on time with how he ran in the halls.  He winks at you once before waltzing back into his seat, echoing out a half-hearted apology.

 

The rest of the day runs smoothly after that.  You pointedly ignore Hanzo, and if you were paying attention, you would notice him doing the same.  Of course, the occasional debate sparks between you two— you can’t let him voice an opinion without your two cents.  It’s more than once that you two have derailed the entire classroom with your heated discussions, but today is relatively peaceful.  Perhaps to make up for the altercation in the morning, you stay out of each other’s way more than you usually would.  There’s also the subject of the conference you two would be attending together at the end of the day.

 

Though you’d crumpled it up pretty well, you could read your homeroom teacher’s thick, dark letters on the piece of paper.  It didn’t say much, just that you were to be in her office after the final bell rang.  You didn’t quite know what it meant: it could be any number of things.  While it was no secret that you and Hanzo held a disdain for each other that bordered on a holy passion, today was an unusual occurrence.   You kept your battles to where it counted, where you both felt it most: your academics.  You and Hanzo were in a constant fight for the valedictorian seat.  It was personal, for you.  He was the rich boy from the big house on the hill, who had everything handed to him on a silver spoon from the moment he was born.  He didn’t need it like you did, he didn’t deserve it like you did.  You study hard, in the harsh light of the desk light with books borrowed from the library.  You have nothing, really, except this as your chance to make it out.  To get into a good college, to get a scholarship and make good money so that Jack wouldn’t have to work on weekends just to support the both of you.

 

That’s why you couldn’t let Hanzo win.  He, and everyone like him could look at you and your family like dirt, but you would claw your way out above him, no matter what.  With this thought being firmest in your mind as the mass of students filed out, you maneuver into the small, quaint office of your homeroom teacher.  

 

Mrs. Marx is a kind, older woman with thick-rimmed glasses and a bit of dark red lipstick smudged on her teeth.  According to Jack, she’s been the senior class advisor and the advanced literature teacher for over twenty years, but her passion shines through whenever she lectures.  Jesse likes to tease you about it, but you like her quite a bit more than most of the other teachers you had; you even let her call you ‘Bambi.’  That was what makes the meeting all the more important.  You slide into the seat next to Hanzo, body angled away from him and in a bit of a slouch.  He doesn’t look at you, his posture perfect as he waits for her to address you both.   “Hello, Bambi, dear.  Thank you for coming.   You as well, Hanzo.”  She folds her long, white hands together on the aged oak desk, a variety of papers spread about, and her smile kind.  “I’m sure you both know this, but you two are the shining stars of the school.  Your grades are impeccable, and for the most part, your behavior has been laudable.”  That one is aiming at you, definitely, and you give a small shrug of your shoulders.  Can’t have it all, teach, you think quietly to yourself.  You know Hanzo is no angel either, but people in positions like his have a way of being able to cover things up.  “Anyway, you both are already far ahead of the current curriculum.  It wouldn’t be fair of me to test you against them and ruin the curve, so instead, I’d like for the two of you to work together for the rest of the semester on a project.”

 

Wow.  Couldn’t say you saw that coming.  You sneak a look at Hanzo, who is as stone-faced as ever, eyes widening slightly and then looking to you as if for confirmation.   She doesn’t allow either of you to object before she continues.  “It’s a poetry assignment.  I want the two of you to write poems— meaningful ones, mind you,” Once again, it’s directed at you, but you can forgive her for this one, you were already in the middle of constructing a delightful limerick at Hanzo’s expense.  “One will write a poem, the other will analyze it for meaning and compare it to another author of a similar poetry type.  After you both write a poem, you’ll discuss it with each other and compare authorial intent with the actual content.  The nitty-gritty details of this assignment are right here, but I know that both of you will make me proud.”  Her tone, while bright, held no room for argument.  You would do this, with Hanzo, for the rest of the semester, whether you like it or not.

 

You nod, taking the stapled papers from her, and Hanzo does the same.  Damn.  From what you skim of it, it’s a detailed assignment; not something you could halfass the night before, and your brows furrow when you realize you’re going to have to spend time with Hanzo outside of class in order to properly complete it.  “When do we get started?”  Hanzo asks her, eyes glancing over to the teacher over the papers in his hand.

 

“You can start right away, if you like. But we’re starting the standard poetry section on Wednesday, which is when I’ll allow you two to go to the library and work during class time.”  Mrs. Marx seems happy that neither of you have voiced any complaints, and quickly stands up in her chair.  “That’s all I wanted to talk to you about.  I have high expectations from you both.”  You and Hanzo both thank her for her time and her belief in you, and leave in quick succession from the room.

 

“Ridiculous.”  That’s the first word from Hanzo’s mouth as soon as the door shuts.

 

“You’re telling me.”  You reply back sourly, staring at the paper as if you could will it away.  “I don’t want to spend any more time with you than the law requires me to in this shithole.”

 

He scoffs.  “Finally, something we can agree on.  We can hash out the details of where we are going to meet to discuss in class.  Don’t waste my time.”  Hanzo gives you a cool glare, which you earnestly return.

 

“Took the words right out of my mouth.  We’ll get this over with and you can go back to shoving the stick up your ass as far in as possible.”

 

“ **God** , you are a vulgar creature.  I cannot wait to see what kind of supposedly deep poetry that crass mind of yours can pump out.  I hope I won't lose my lunch.”  He shakes his head disgustedly, and turns to leave.

 

“Just try and keep up, Shimada.”  You call out, needing to have the last word.   He ignores you, but it doesn’t stop you from flipping him off with both hands anyways.   _Arrogant bastard._

 

Despite how you felt about it, Jack was incredibly happy when you brought up the news that you would be involved in a special school project.  His face fell when you brought up who you were partnered up with, but proud nonetheless.  “...Just do your best to behave.”  He warns in the weary way an old man gets when he knows everything he says will go in one ear and out the other.  “The Shimadas are bad news.  Don’t get more involved with them than you have to, alright?  Even if he makes you mad— I mean it.  You have a lot going for you, so don’t let him ruin it.”  It wasn’t like you went out of your way to make Hanzo your hated rival; the bad blood between you was started by him in the first place, but you bite it back for nothing if not Jack’s peace of mind.

 

“Got it.”  You reassure him, leaning back in the old wooden chair of the The next few months were really going to be something.


End file.
